


Men like vultures

by silvereyedotaku



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Cheating, Financial Issues, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Unhealthy Relationships, Misunderstandings, One Night Stands, Pre-Canon, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereyedotaku/pseuds/silvereyedotaku
Summary: "Do you not want me and your wife to be friends?" Whizzer leans in teasingly, but the look in his eyes is deadly serious. "I think we're getting pretty close. It's lucky you walked in when you did. We were about to start trading secrets. I have one or two that might interest her, don't you think?"Marvin goes pale. "You wouldn't." he states, but his voice is unsure."Wouldn't I?" Whizzer tilts his head, grinning, ignoring the pain in his chest. "I think it'd be hilarious, to watch your marriage shatter after all these years of cracks forming. What's stopping me? All it takes is one tap and it’ll break."





	1. Dreaming

Whizzer opens the door and steps cautiously inside. "Marvin?" he calls, his voice too loud in this quiet house.

Marvin had called him a couple of hours ago, asking Whizzer to come to his house. It was a strange request, but Whizzer agreed to go there. He assumed the wife wasn't going to be there. They were probably going to have sex in the bed he shares with her. Messed up, but it was just the kind of thing he could imagine Marvin being into.

A woman sticks her head around the door and Whizzer almost yelps in shock, stopping himself at the last minute. What the hell is going on?

He smiles at her and she smiles back quizzically, brown hair neatly framing her face. At a first glance, she's pretty, in a worn, tired sort of way. She’s even beautiful if you ignore the creases in her brow and the dark bags under her eyes.

His stomach rolls as he takes in her appearance. She looks so real it startles him, which is ridiculous. Of course she's _real_. He shouldn't be surprised. He's known about her since the first time Marvin screwed him and then left, citing his wife as justification. He's heard Marvin whisper her name in rare moments of vulnerability, heard him yell it, yelled it himself, thrown it in Marvin's face.

Despite all this, the waves of unjustified shock rolls over him. Here she is, the woman who sleeps side by side in the same bed as the man who fucks Whizzer almost every day.

He considers whether she knows Marvin is cheating on her. She probably does. He tries to pretend this hasn't crossed his mind.

They swap pleasantries and her friendliness twists his stomach into knots. How would she react if he just told her? Would she hit him? Would she cry? Would she do nothing at all? Whizzer privately thinks that the first two are better than the last, even if they result in Whizzer getting hurt. But looking at this exhausted woman, he just wants to admit to everything. She deserves to know that this marriage she's fought so fiercely for is based on lies.

Whizzer explains he's Marvin's friend and he's here to see him, and is relieved when she doesn't question further. He supposes she's gotten good at that, being Marvin’s wife.

She tells him Marvin will be back soon, and they sit down in the kitchen and talk. It’s a light, pleasant conversation, but Whizzer still squirms in his chair whenever he catches her looking at him curiously. Like something’s off, but she can't quite figure out what. Maybe she’s interested in why her husband is friends with a queer man, Whizzer thinks.

Marvin arrives home from work late and Whizzer almost smirks at the look on his face when he sees them chatting happily away. He doesn't know what Marvin expected, but he was the one that invited Whizzer here, for whatever reason.

The wife greets him with a kiss on the cheek which, to Marvin's credit, doesn't make him look too nauseous. She asks Whizzer if he'd like to stay for dinner and he agrees, even though this entire house is making him feel hollow and cheap. But it’s worth it to see the fear in Marvin’s face. Again, Whizzer questions why he invited him in the first place. Did he not know his wife would be at home? Was this all part of some twisted plan?

The wife excuses herself to the kitchen and Marvin grabs Whizzer's wrist, tugging him into a dark corner. "What the hell were you thinking?" he hisses and Whizzer's temper flares. Moments like this make him wonder why he even puts up with Marvin. It’s fun, sure, but it's so damn difficult.

"I was just getting to know your wife. She's quite nice." Whizzer whispers back. "I think we'll be friends in no time. Wouldn't that be nice? Isn't that what you want? For your wife and your boy toy to get along?"

"Oh, you have no idea what I want." Marvin growls, gripping Whizzer harder.

"On the contrary, Marv," Whizzer bites, the nickname Marvin's wife uses rolling off his tongue. "I know _exactly_ what you want." He pushes a hand through Marvin's hair, letting it come to rest around his neck. "I always will."

They stare each other down, Whizzer slowly tightening his hold. Marvin's knees buckle and he forces Whizzer's hand off his throat, ears red. "What is it, Marvin? Do you not want me and your wife to be friends?" Whizzer pushes, wanting to see Marvin crack. "I think we were getting pretty close before. It's lucky you walked in when you did. We were about to start trading _secrets_. I have one or two that might interest her, don't you think?"  

Marvin goes pale. "You wouldn't." he states, but his voice is unsure.

"Wouldn't I?" Whizzer leans in, grinning. "I think it'd be hilarious, to watch your marriage shatter after all these years of cracks forming. What's stopping me? All it takes is one tap and it’ll break."

“That's not true." Marvin says, but he sounds desperate and he knows it.

Whizzer rolls his eyes. "Even I can see the fissures. Every time you get drunk or you don't come home until four in the morning because you're with me, or you forget something simple - like her favourite colour or her parents' birthdays - cracks are forming. Every time you push her away because her perfume and her sweet, docile submissiveness sicken you. So I ask again, Marvin, what's stopping me?"

Marvin splutters as he searches for a response hating not being in control, hating Whizzer taking it from him. Whizzer feels resolute, ready to walk into the kitchen and announce the truth.

It's for the best; they'll both get over it eventually. The wife will find a better husband, one who'll actually take care of her and enjoys being around her. Marvin will come to terms with his sexuality in time and possibly find a nice guy to live out the rest of his days with.

Whizzer feels a sharp stab of jealousy imagining that, which is an entirely unreasonable response. He doesn't want to be the nice guy that Marvin settles down with. He’s never wanted to be his _partner_. He's just there for when Marvin gets sick of playing family charades.

It suddenly occurs to him that he hasn't felt jealous like that since he arrived in this house. He should be tearing his hair out in frustration, but he feels no envy for Marvin’s wife. Maybe because he knows what they have isn't truly what Marvin wants. Well, his wife doesn't have a choice in what she wants.

He's about to turn around when he sees it over Marvin's shoulder.

It's a photograph of a child, skinny and boyish, but smiling widely. He drifts towards it as if in a dream.

Marvin follows his gaze and he softens when he sees the photo. His eyes dart back up to meet Whizzer's, suddenly guilty. "Jason." he says, as if that explains everything.

"Jason?" Whizzer repeats faintly.

"My son." Marvin answers and Whizzer feels his heart _freeze_.

Any affection he might have felt for this man, buried deep though it was, is suddenly gone. Any sympathy he had for Marvin's difficult situation disappears abruptly with this admission. Marvin was tearing a family apart with his actions. He was going to break a child's heart. And he'd made Whizzer complicit in these acts by not telling him he had a fucking son. Marvin had made him into a homewrecker.

Whizzer reaches out and carefully adjusts the photo.

Then he turns and backhands Marvin hard enough to nearly knock him down. He walks out the door without a backwards glance. He won't be back.

\-----

Marvin calls him. He ignores it the first few times and soon the phone is ringing off the hook. Typical. He goes out, leaving the metallic noises behind in favour of the atmosphere of the city.

He goes to Millan’s, the nearest queer bar. A few regulars lift their glasses to him when he walks through the door and a couple of patrons he’s never seen before turn their eyes to him. He smirks, knowing he's commanding all those looking at him and loving it.

It’s one of the things he misses since he started screwing Marvin regularly. When he’s with Marvin, it’s always a fight to come out on top, a competition. It’s an unfortunate downfall to being with someone as manipulative as he is.

It’s relaxing to take the lead in the conversation and not have someone instantly try to wrench it back.

He takes a seat at the bar and orders himself a drink. The student sitting a few seats down is gawking at him and Whizzer turns and smiles calmly at him. The kid nearly falls out of his seat. A young, blond man buys him a drink and they make conversation until another man does the same.

Eventually, a tall, decently-attractive man in a suit introduces himself and buys Whizzer the most expensive thing on the menu. He's blunt about what he's here for.

They go home together. Whizzer limps back to his apartment, satisfied.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he returns to blessed silence. Looks like Marvin's stopped trying. Maybe he can still patch up his relationship, for the sake of the child.

The phone rings again the next morning and Whizzer picks up without thinking. "Hello?" he asks, bringing the receiver to his ear.

"Whizzer." Marvin breathes his name almost reverently. Whizzer hangs up the phone in disgust.

\-----

Marvin turns up at his apartment. Whizzer tries to slams the door in his face, but he sticks a shoe in the way and refuses to move it. Whizzer is reluctantly forced to open the door and they stare at each other, Marvin fidgeting awkwardly.

"I know should have told you-" Marvin starts, but Whizzer just snorts derisively and looks away. "It was wrong to put you in that position-" he tried again, Whizzer shooting him a dismissive glare.

"I shouldn't have kept it from you. I regret that." Marvin says softly.

"No, Marvin." Whizzer looks up and meets his eyes coldly. "That's not what you should be regretting. What you should be regretting is sticking your cock in another man when you had a wife and a fucking child waiting for you at home." Marvin stares at the ground, rightfully ashamed. "You're willing to destroy a child's life just so you can get off every now and then?"

"It's more than that." Marvin interrupts harshly. "We're more than that."

Whizzer laughs, and it's one of genuine amusement. "Do you actually _believe_ that?" he asks, watching Marvin's face redden with anger. "Do you really think you're anything more to me than just a fuck?"

He saunters towards Marvin, casual and at ease. He taps his forehead, hard. "Wake up, Marv."

Marvin is barely containing his temper, teeth clenched and eyebrows furrowed. Whizzer waits patiently for a reply, but none is given. Marvin just stands there, with his hands balled into fists and his shoulders tense. Whizzer clears his throat, the silence making him uneasy.

Marvin takes a slow, deliberate step towards him and Whizzer finds himself instinctively stepping back. Marvin takes another step forward and Whizzer fights the urge to back down. He is not Marvin's wife, he will not bend without putting up a fight.

Marvin places a hand on his chest. He moves it to rest over Whizzer's heart and he knows they can both feel his racing heartbeat. Marvin's hand drifts down to his stomach and he makes to pull Whizzer's shirt out of where it's tucked into his trousers. His breathing quickens and he presses against Marvin, who slides a hand down his back to grab his ass.

Whizzer suddenly remembers the kid, the child Marvin is ignoring, and he wants to pull away.

Then Marvin's hand is tangled in his hair and he _tugs_ and Whizzer forgets it for now, grinding down on the knee between his legs.


	2. Laughing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm gay and I'm back" - Andrew Rannells

They were lying in bed when Whizzer thought to ask. "Why did you invite me to your house if you knew your wife was going to be home?" Marvin rolls over from the other side of the bed, facing Whizzer with sincere eyes.

"I thought she was at a friend's house." he says in hushed tones. "She told me after you left that they cancelled on her."

Whizzer nods, leaning into Marvin's arm resting around his waist. Marvin smiles wryly. "She was sad to see you go, you know. As if you really are friends.” Whizzer huffs a laugh.

Marvin's face seems soft and kind in the early morning light trickling through the blinds. His forehead is still lined, his hair still an unremarkable shade of brown, but he looks younger. And his dark eyes sparkle when they look at Whizzer, as if the blazing argument from a few nights ago didn't happen. He can almost fool himself they’re a real couple, basking in the beauty of their relationship. He feels his heart begin to thaw.

Whizzer can't get out of bed fast enough after that, leaving Marvin cold and irritated. He sits down on a chair in the living room, trying not to notice as Marvin shuffles into the living room, bed sheets wrapped around his middle.

"What's wrong?" he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Whizzer hates seeing him like this, confused and a little too vulnerable. It's so easy to see him furious, distraught, because of his words and the power he has over Marvin. It's enjoyable to tear down the pedestal Marvin places himself upon.

Whizzer feels a little spark in his stomach when he forces vulnerability out of Marvin by humiliating him. But when he offers it up willingly Whizzer wants to throw up.

"What, did I do something?" Marvin asks, beginning to get impatient.

"Oh yeah, you did plenty." Whizzer says before he can stop himself, reflexes taking over. Marvin sneers and turns around, searching for his clothes on the floor.

"You always have to make things so fucking difficult." He grabs his underwear and steps into it. "Do you get kicks out of sabotaging every interaction?"

"I am not going to listen to this bullshit." Whizzer snaps. "If you're going to act like this you can go home to your wife." And your son, he adds guiltily in his head.

Marvin heaves a long-suffering sigh as he fished his shirt out from behind a stack of magazines. "Stop trying to ruin every conversation we have. I swear, it's like you want us to fight."

"Whatever." Whizzer mutters, running his hands through his hair. It’s better like this, when they’re clear about what they are to each other. Snide comments are easier to understand than loving hands and butterfly kisses. He repeats this over and over again through the aching in his chest.

Marvin groans, oblivious to Whizzer’s thoughts. He slowly buttons his shirt with drowsy fingers. "Does everything have to be an argument with you?"

"Sorry if you're not used to sleeping with someone who actually stands up for themselves." Whizzer says, putting his head in his hands. He’s so, so tired.

Marvin adjusts the shirt and crouches down in front of him. He takes Whizzer's hands in his, revealing his face. "You don't have to be jealous of her." he whispers.

"I'm not." Whizzer replies. It's the truth.

Marvin nods understandingly, as if he knows something Whizzer doesn't. "Okay, Whizzer. Okay."

They settle on the couch together and doze. Marvin leaves for work when the time comes. Whizzer lounges around a bit more before eventually getting dressed and heading out into the city.

He walks through the park, taking in his surroundings. It's fall, and the leaves are just beginning to turn golden.

The vibrant oranges and reds are making Whizzer nostalgic, the bright colours reminding him of his childhood home's backyard. Whizzer would try and catch the leaves as they drifted down from the branches. He never once succeeded, but it was fun to try and his heart swelled with joy when his older sister encouraged him. They would laugh and throw leaves at each other, bundled up in heavy coats and scarves.

After a while they would have to go back to the house and explain to their father where they'd been. But even when he grumbled and got heavy handed with Whizzer, it was still worth it. Those Autumn afternoons were some of his favourite memories.

Whizzer is pulled forcefully out of his thoughts when he collides with someone. He apologises to the short man and continues on his way, smiling as he remembers his sister's excited face.

He gets lunch from a cheap food vendor, who blushes when he takes the food from her. He grins at her, making her flush from her neck to her hair.

He can't help but notice how light his wallet feels after he pays. He opens it and finds that he's running dangerously low on cash. He weighs up his options. He could always ask Marvin for some more money next time he sees him. It's the quickest and easiest solution, even if it hurts to have to rely on him.

Whizzer squares his shoulders, tucking his wallet back in his pocket. Asking for help doesn't make him any less of a man. Truly, it doesn't - and if Marvin believes otherwise then he's _wrong_.

Besides, Whizzer tells himself, the idiot should be more than ready to treat him, given how long he'd put up with Marvin's psychotic ass.

A lesser man would have left by now, but Whizzer is not a lesser man. He's going to drag out this distasteful affair, at least until Marvin begins to bore him. He comforts himself with the idea of getting sick of Marvin and tossing him out as he walks home.

\-----

A hard knock at the door startles Whizzer out of his daze. It's probably the landlord, come to check around his apartment. He suspects the real reason the supervisor comes to check on him so much is in the hope that an excuse to throw him out will present itself.

It makes the owner uncomfortable to have a queer man living in his building, is the likely explanation. He self-consciously adjusts his shirt and checks his hair before answering the door.

Marvin's sheepish face is less than expected when Whizzer opens the door. It takes a second for him to get over his surprise before he glances at the clock hanging on the wall next to the door. It's nowhere near the time Marvin usually gets off work.

Whizzer turns his eyes back to Marvin questioningly, only to find he's brought a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back.

"I'm saying sorry," Marvin admits, pressing the flowers into Whizzer's unresponsive arms.

"You already tried to say sorry." Whizzer lets the flowers fall to the floor.

Marvin rolls his eyes and picks them up. "Yes, but you didn't forgive me. So I'm bringing you these."

Whizzer stares down at them. This strangely traditional display of affection is so unlike Marvin that he feels unbalanced and off kilter. It's possible that this is just another form of power play, but what would Marvin have to gain by giving him flowers? He takes them reluctantly.

They’re pretty enough - white tulips wrapped in dark blue paper. He has nowhere to put them.

“The florist said they symbolise forgiveness.” Whizzer’s head shoots up at that. Why the hell would Marvin be forgiving him? What had _he_ done? He’s about to voice this when he sees Marvin’s face. He looks awkward but he’s smiling slightly, proud of the bouquet.

“So you’re giving them to me because _you_ want forgiveness, is that it?” Whizzer fills in, staring at him. Marvin nods, smile widening. Whizzer swallows down a snort. Of course Marvin would fuck up the most charming gesture he’d ever made.

“It’s supposed to be the other way round.” he tells him, sniffing at the flowers. He’s not sure what exactly they smell like, but it’s nice.

“What do you mean?” Marvin’s brow furrows, suddenly defensive. Whizzer thinks that for someone who claims to be smart, he’s awfully slow on the uptake.

“If you give these flowers to someone it means you are forgiving them for something they’ve done.” Whizzer explains patiently.

Marvin glares at the bouquet. Whizzer find himself holding back giggles again. “Why are you staring at them like that? It’s not their fault.”

Marvin lifts his eyes to Whizzer’s amused face. He’s trying to look angry, but Whizzer can tell he’s just trying to cover his embarrassment. “Well, I can just take them back if you don’t want them.” he blusters, reaching for the flowers. Whizzer holds them out of reach.

“That’s not what I was saying, Marvin,” Whizzer dodges as Marvin takes a swing at the bouquet.

“Just give them back!” Marvin makes another grab for the tulips, missing by a millimetre.

“Wha- no! They’re mine now, you gave them to me- stop trying to take them back!” Whizzer’s voice is shaking with barely contained laughter as Marvin pulls on his arm.

“You little-” Marvin’s laughing as well at this point. Whizzer’s about to throw the bouquet across the apartment when Marvin grabs his chin and kisses him, hard.

Whizzer drops the flowers and fists his hands in the front of Marvin’s shirt. He goes to deepen the kiss, but Marvin pulls away and scoops the flowers off the floor, a triumphant grin on his face.

“They’re mine,” Whizzer whines, halfheartedly reaching in for them. To his surprise, Marvin hands them back to him.

“Do you like them, then?” he asks as Whizzer plays with the tissue paper.

“Yes, they’re lovely.” Whizzer says quietly. “For dead plants, I mean,” he adds as an afterthought when he sees the way Marvin’s looking at him.

Marvin just smirks and snakes his arm around Whizzer’s hips. “There’s not really anywhere for them to go, though.” he remarks, looking around the messy apartment.

“I’m sure I can find a place for them somewhere.” Whizzer murmurs.

“Yeah, what about next to this pile of dirty cups?” Marvin offers sarcastically. “Or on top of this heap of clothes?”

“Shut up,” Whizzer orders without malice, setting the flowers down of the couch. “I’ll figure it out.”

Marvin smiles at him, pleased. “Yeah?”

Whizzer leans in, kissing him slow and sweet. “Yeah. I will.”


	3. Playing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in a while, gf problems

Whizzer swills the black fluid around his mouth, trying not to gag. He pushes his mug away and tried valiantly to swallow the disgusting liquid.

One thing's for certain: he's never coming to this coffee place again.

Marvin snickers from across the table, earning himself a fierce glare.

They're only at this stupid place because it's Marvin's birthday and Whizzer wanted to celebrate. He's paying for it out of his own pocket, which is why they're at this rundown café. They could have done all sorts of romantic things, but Whizzer's never been one for grand gestures, and Marvin seems happy enough here. Besides, Whizzer can't afford to take him to dinner at the moment.

He's surprised Marvin even agreed to it, given the implications if anyone were to catch them. But when he asked Marvin acted like it was a totally reasonable request, despite the fact that it meant he'd have to tell his wife he was working on his birthday.

He supposes Marvin's trying to ride out this wave of rare happiness that had been washing over them recently. They're _content_ , and it's the worst feeling in the world knowing that at some point, it has to end.

"I'm sure it's not that awful." Marvin says. It takes Whizzer a moment to realise he's talking about the coffee.

"It really is." Whizzer slides the cup across the table. "Here, you try it."

Marvin brings the mug to his lips and takes a sip. He immediately winces and sets it back down. "I take your point."

“How's the shortbread?" Whizzer gestures to the hunk of cake-like-substance sitting in the centre of the table.

Marvin takes the edge of the plate and slides it closer to him, looking suspiciously at the clay-like shortbread. "I don't know... I haven't tried it yet." he says slowly, tutting at the slightly grubby plate.

“Well, what are you waiting for?" Whizzer tilts his head innocently.

Marvin stares at the shortbread hatefully for a moment more. Then he takes a deep breath and snatches it off the plate, shoving it into his mouth. He grimaces and swallows with great effort.

Whizzer claps loudly, drawing the attention of the tables around them. Marvin waves away the attention, coughing.

Whizzer chooses not to mention the crumbs that scatter across the table when he coughs. “So?"

Marvin gulps down a swig of Whizzer's coffee and wipes his mouth. "It's fine." he says, voice cracking halfway through. Whizzer nods, humouring him.

He watches in amazement as Marvin voluntarily drinks more from the mug. "Lesser of two evils." Marvin explains when he sees Whizzer staring.

They lapse into comfortable silence, Marvin sipping Whizzer's coffee and Whizzer people-watching through the window.

His eyes settle on a pair of young men talking excitedly. At first they just looked like two friends having an interesting conversation. But Whizzer noticed the subtle ways their fingers brushed together, how close they were standing, the look in the taller man's eyes. It's easy to spot for him because they're a reflection of himself. Restrained affection shines through their every gesture.

They looked happy and in love, in their own subtle way.

Whizzer turns away from the window, only to find Marvin's staring as well.

They look away from each other quickly, awkwardness suddenly sparking between them.

Whizzer stares at the coffee prices written on the menu board resolutely. Marvin glances around the room, noticing a thin woman sitting by herself in the corner. She has brown hair, hanging loose around her face, and a large book open in front of her on the table. She looks up, and she has similar eyes to his wife.

Whizzer sees who Marvin is staring at, how Marvin stiffens involuntarily and lays a hand on his arm. "It's not her." he whispers, stroking his arm calmingly.

Marvin shakes his head. "I know. It's fine, I just panicked for a second." He smiles at Whizzer, face full of shaken, but unmistakably genuine gratitude.

Whizzer wants to drag him across the table by his shirt collar and kiss him until they forget it all.

But he stops himself, offering Marvin a calm smile. Now isn't the time. He sees the server behind Marvin and waves her over, handing her a couple of bills.

"That should cover it, right?" he says to her under his breath, anxiety obvious in his words.

The waitress picks up the empty plate and coffee cup. "Was this all?" she asks, balancing the plate and mug in one hand. Whizzer nods and the server leans in close, sensing he's trying to keep this from Marvin. Maybe Whizzer isn't as subtle as he thought. "I need a couple of dollars more for the coffee." she whispers.

Whizzer feels dread begin to settle over him. He hands the girl another two dollars and she smiles, satisfied. She looks at two dollars like what they are - a tiny, insignificant amount. It's the way Marvin looks at them as well. But to Whizzer, those two dollars were his lunch tomorrow.

He had decided didn't want to ask Marvin for money. He'd thought he could do it, but he just can't bring himself to see that look on his face. Like Whizzer has disappointed him. It's okay. Whizzer will figure something out.

Marvin brushes their fingers together, drawing Whizzer out of his thoughts.

They walk out of the tiny café and into the cold, late-autumn air. Whizzer shivers, pulling his coat tighter around his body. Marvin sniffs, the tip of his nose already pink.

They stroll down the sidewalk, making comfortable small talk. Whizzer rolls his eyes at a young couple on a park bench, kissing passionately, and makes a disparaging remark about breeders. Marvin chuckles, eyes crinkling in the corners. They continue down the road, dodging past rowdy groups of teenagers who go barrelling past. 

They eventually reach Whizzer's apartment building. They stand there for a moment, unsure. Whizzer pauses, then darts forward and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. 

They're sheltered by the building and it's fast enough that no one could possibly see. Still, Marvin jolts backwards, bright red and shocked.

Always acting like a virgin around men, Whizzer thinks to himself with a shake of his head. Honestly.

There's still red in Marvin's cheeks when he finally manages a reply. "Goodbye," he splutters, twisting his hands.

Whizzer nods. "Will I see you tomorrow night? Y’know, after you’re done with the birthday celebrations."

Marvin's eyebrows furrow. "I don't know. It depends."

"On what?" Whizzer asks. He hates when Marvin acts cryptic.

"Oh, uh… It doesn't matter." Marvin says, his face having returned to a normal colour, but still shifting uncomfortably.

"No, tell me." Whizzer pushes, frowning. "Will we see each other or not?"

"I said I don't know." Marvin's exasperated now. "I'm still waiting on something."

"On what?" Whizzer's getting annoyed. "What are you waiting for that's so important?"

"I told you, it doesn't matter." Marvin shoves open the door to the lobby and steps inside, sick of the cold outdoors air.

"Well, it obviously does! Otherwise you wouldn't have made such a big deal out of it." Whizzer storms after him, furious that Marvin was making an argument out of this. Everything was going so well and now Marvin's going to ruin it just because he insists on not sharing his plans.

"It's not a big deal. I’ll let you know when I sort some stuff out," Marvin insists.

"If it's not then just tell me. What were you going to say?" Whizzer feels his voice begin to rise, volume only increasing when Marvin sighs like he's being irrational. "For god's sake, just tell me-"

"Tickets to my son's school play." Marvin cuts him off harshly. There's a beat of silence as the bubble bursts.

It's not just them at the centre of the world anymore, Marvin's family pop back into existence. He tries to pretend he's not sad to let this charade they've been playing out end.

"Fine." Whizzer says shortly, turning on his heel.

He looks back and sees Marvin heading out the front door. It's horribly reminiscent of their last argument. Whizzer hates this nauseating repetition with his entire body. Will they ever break out of this cycle?

Whizzer takes the stairs up to his apartment, hoping the climb will help him think. It doesn't, but now he has his sore leg muscles to distract him from the thoughts in his head.

He takes a quick shower, mindful of his water bill, and wraps a towel round his hips, contemplating his next move.

A trip back out into the city could be fun, but he doesn't really want to see other people. He could go somewhere quiet, but then he'd be bored. He flops down onto the couch after pushing a dirty plate and book onto the floor to make room.

It's hard to believe this is his life now, sitting inside with nothing to do and wondering when it all went wrong. It's only midday and he has zero things to do.

He finds himself craving structure in his life, something to separate the endless hours from each other. He guesses Marvin already has these distinguishers - work hours, time he spends with his family, time he spends away from Whizzer.

He gets up off the couch and wanders over to the fridge. There's an old apple on the top shelf and a couple of condiment bottles. He closes the fridge door and sits back down on the couch. He gets back up and walks to the bedroom and stands in the doorway. The covers are messed up and he hasn't made the bed in days.

He walks forward and drags a hand across the pillow, imaging Marvin's hair spread across it. Nowadays it seems like everything reminds him of Marvin. Even his bed, something that is inherently his, has been hijacked by the familiar tugging in the back of his head when he thinks of Marvin.

Whizzer goes back to the couch but trips over a pair of shoes on the way.

Maybe it's a sign from the universe. Maybe he should take the universe's advice.

He slips them on and shrugs on a jacket. Reaching for the doorknob, he hesitates. Part of him wants to stay.

But he knows he needs something bigger than this; his small life confined within these apartment walls. All he wants is to stop thinking. The image of Marvin at his child’s school play sneaks into Whizzer's head before he can shake it away.

He has to leave, _now_. He nods firmly and closes the door behind him a little harder than necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was a little boring, I promise things heat up in the next one 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always wonderful! :) I don't reply because that'd clog up the comments section but I read and love all of them.


	4. Making music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone pls notice what I'm doing w the titles (i think i'm clever haha)

Whizzer picks up the drink in front of him, swilling it lazily around the glass.

It's some fruity, colourful cocktail, designed to get the drinker drunk in the shortest time possible. An older man had strolled up to where he was sitting at the bar and bought it for him, before retreating back to his table of friends - and not approaching him again.

He shifts in the leather seat, eyes focused on the drinks specials above the bartender's head.

They're the same as the last time he was here. Everything is the same, just with different people milling around. He looks around the room, noting a few new faces and ignoring old ones.

He glances across the bar, meeting the eyes of a young man. He has dirty blond hair and a smug look on his face, for no apparent reason.

The man raises his glass of whisky to Whizzer and turns away. He's handsome - _very_ handsome, with his confidence and his strong jawline.

Whizzer rises from seat, then stops. As much as he hates it, the very man who he'd been trying to forget pops into his head.

It's like Marvin is there in the bar, standing beside him. He feels guilty for making eye contact with the handsome stranger, despite him not having any technical, any _real_ attachment to Marvin. Marvin's married, for crying out loud.

As much as he tries to ignore it, Marvin's married and is just trying to find himself within Whizzer. They're nothing permanent, only together until Whizzer gets bored of him or Marvin permanently decides his sexual orientation.

Whizzer hopes that it turns out like the former option. It would be so satisfying to leave Marvin, confused and heartbroken and unsure what he did wrong.

He shouldn't feel guilty, especially not now. Not while the dirtbag was at his kid's school play.

It occurs to him that Marvin doing this isn't actually a bad action. It probably seems like the perfect choice - birthday spent as a family, supporting his child. From an outside perspective, it's the nicest thing Marvin could have done.

But it still upsets Whizzer, almost more than Marvin keeping it from him does. Because if he was keeping it hidden, it meant he thought Whizzer couldn't handle it; and Whizzer would not be fragile and breakable like Marvin now thinks.

"Hey there."

Whizzer looks up abruptly to find the blond man standing in front of him.

He imagines he must have looked very stupid, standing there and staring at nothing.

Quickly, he recovers himself and smirks. He leans back against the bar. "Hey. To who do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?" he asks, turning the charm on full.

"My friends, probably. They said I needed to get out more, so I came here. And," the blonde man leans in, "Now I've met you, I'm glad they did. You're interesting."

"Oh, I am? You don't even know me." Whizzer leans in, following the man's lead. "But let's pretend you do know me. What are you exactly interested in?"

"Well, I'm _very_ interested in your name and your address." the man tells him, casually resting his hand on Whizzer's arm.

"Whizzer, I don't live far." The blond man raised an eyebrow at his response. Whizzer continued before he could ask. "And no, it's not a fake name. And no, that's not a lie. It's... unusual, I know."

"I like it." the man states boldly. "I'm Zachary, by the way."

"Okay Zachary," Whizzer said, testing out the way the word felt in his mouth. "Nice. It rolls off the tongue."

Zachary's eyes dropped to Whizzer's lips, smirking. "Yeah?" he shifts towards him.

If they get any closer they'll be connected at the mouth. Not that he would be opposed to that. "My place is pretty close to here." Zachary lets his eyes roll suggestively over Whizzer's body. "I've been told the beds are comfortable." Whizzer feels a spark of heat at the obvious implication behind the comment.

Thoughts of Marvin drift into his head, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to fuck Zachary until neither of them are able to walk.

He rises from his seat abruptly, grabbing Zachary's hand. "Woah, you're enthusiastic." Zachary chuckles, getting to his feet.

"Are we going to leave or not?" he demands, glancing towards the exit.

"You're pushy. I dig it." Zachary smirks, letting Whizzer lead him to the door. "I like a man who knows what he wants."

Whizzer rolls his eyes and tugs the man through the door into the chilly night air. The freezing temperature hits him in a wave and immediately, he regrets leaving the warm bar.

Zachary shivers violently. "Do you want me to call a taxi?" he asks, voice shaking just a little.

Whizzer nods, wondering if the universe is trying to send him a message in the form of awful weather. He turns back towards the bar, watching the people through the glass windows. They all look so happy, as if nothing's wrong with the world.

He's startled out of his thoughts by Zachary hitting him on the arm. A cab had pulled up on the sidewalk, waiting for them to get in.

Whizzer swung open the door, feeling Zachary's eyes on his ass as he climbed in. He shuffled along, making room for him.

The car was boiling hot, but it was better than the freezing alternative.

Whizzer tuned out Zachary giving the man the address, staring at the taxi's frosted windows. Autumn was ending, soon it would be winter. He fights to ignore the stab of pain that comes with thinking of the winter months.

He can't believe that he's about to hook up with a very attractive man, and all he can think about is his family sitting around the fire and opening presents. It's stupid.

Zachary's hand sneaks onto his thigh, then slides higher. Whizzer takes his wrist and guides him further up, letting out a little sigh when Zachary begins to rub.

He lets his head tilt back, enjoying the sensation. He gasps as Zachary leans in and bites at his jawline, planting kisses down his throat. He's beginning to lose himself in the feeling, until he feels Zachary unbuckling his belt.

His head shoots up, and Zachary retracts his hand. "Sorry," Whizzer apologises, redoing his belt. "Not in front of the driver."

Zachary shrugs, settling back in his seat. "Don't worry, Whizzer, it's no problem. Just means that when we get to my apartment, I'm going to more desperate to get my hands on you."

Whizzer smiles and goes back to staring out of the window.

\-----

As soon as the door opens, Zachary is grabbing Whizzer by the hips and pulling him into a hard kiss.

Whizzer groans against his lips, opening his mouth wider as Zachary gently bites his bottom lip. He dislikes the needy little sounds that escape him, but they only seem to turn Zachary on more. He pulls him closer, Whizzer grabbing at the man's jacket in an effort to stabilise himself.

It's Zachary who breaks the kiss first, shoving Whizzer towards the bed and turning to shut to front door.

Whizzer thinks that this could be the part where he fights the man in front of him, spits out an acidic retort and forces the man into a rage. But he won't. This man isn't Marvin, he doesn't deserve that, as much as Whizzer aches to insult him and watch the anger rise in his eyes.

He doesn't want to see Zachary furious, not really, just Marvin. He goes willingly to the bed.

God, it's probably the interval by now. He's probably playing happy families with his beautiful wife and lying to the other parents about how proud he is of his son. Whizzer indulges, for a moment, in the fantasy of storming into that school hall. He would grab Marvin by the throat and kiss him in front of all the parents, branding him. He would take great pleasure in telling the wife all the things Marvin loved to do to him, and why he didn't do them to her anymore. It would be spectacular, and he allows himself to dream, until Zachary's insistent touches bring him back to reality.

“You okay?" he murmurs, head buried in the crook of Whizzer's neck. "You looked a bit out of it just now."

Whizzer takes a deep breath, "I'm fine, don't worry-" He cuts himself off with a breathy gasp, Zachary's deft fingers pulling his shirt out of his trousers, brushing his fingers against the skin revealed.

"Good," Zachary growls into his neck, unbuttoning Whizzer's shirt slowly. "Because I'd really hate to stop now." Whizzer shrugs the now-open shirt off his shoulders and helps Zachary remove his own jacket.

Zachary playfully pushes Whizzer down onto his back, fiddling with his belt.

Whizzer's eyes are glued to the movement, watching as he unzips his trousers-

" _Fuck_." Whizzer breaths as Zachary pulls out his half-hard cock.

"You like what you see, baby?" Zachary smirks, rubbing his hand over himself casually. Whizzer nods before he can stop himself - saying Zachary was well-hung was an understatement. Zachary grinned smugly at Whizzer's reply, reaching towards him to undo his trousers as well.

"God," he breathed in Whizzer's ear. "You have no fucking idea how good you looked in that bar. In your tight little pants, acting above it all."

Whizzer moans quietly as Zachary pulls said tight pants off of him. He chokes back an embarrassingly desperate whimper as he lowers his head to the tent in Whizzer's underwear, licking the head through his underwear.

Whizzer's eyes drift to the ceiling as he feels his underwear being pulled down, and then Zachary's mouth is on him and all he can think of is this hot, wet heat.

His hips thrust upwards involuntarily, and Zachary shoves them back down, pining him to the bed. Whizzer gasps as he licks teasingly around the head, hips fighting against the bruising grip.

Slowly, he removes his hands and draws back, reaching for something on the bedside table. Whizzer hears the sound of foil being ripped and glances up. Zachary is drizzling a one-time packet of lube over his fingers. He smirks down at Whizzer, who began to pant despite himself.

Tossing the packaging away, he settles between Whizzer's spread legs. It's hot and Whizzer's head tilts back. He bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Zachary's fingers trail down to his hole, testing the rim before pushing two fingers in. Whizzer moans, low and long, as he begins to scissor them, arching his back and spreading his legs even further.

This continues for a couple of minutes before Zachary removes his hand, wiping excess lube onto his cock. Whizzer hadn't thought to look in the last few minutes - he'd been too distracted by his mouth and fingers - but when he did he couldn't hold back a delighted sigh.

Zachary's cock was red and bobbing against his stomach. It's so big Whizzer feels like passing out, in the best possible way.

Zachary leans over him, kissing the side of his neck. He brings his hips back and then thrusts forwards, inside Whizzer in one movement. It aches a little, as expected, but Whizzer's too busy panting and grinding back on him to complain.

"Fuck. You look so perfect like this. Flushed and needy for my cock." Whizzer suppresses a groan at the filthy praise. He probably does look pretty like this, rocking his hips and trying not to whimper.

Zachary bites his collarbone hard and withdraws his hips until only the head of his cock remains inside Whizzer. "Beg for it." he orders Whizzer, teasing him with little licks around the quickly-darkening skin of his neck.

" _Please_ ," Whizzer moans, grabbing at Zachary's shoulders to try and get him to move.

"Well, since you're being such a good boy..." He thrusts in so hard Whizzer sees stars.

It's so good, so fucking _good_ , that Whizzer forgets everything, forgets Marvin and his kid and his family. He can think of nothing but Zachary's cock thrusting into him, their bodies moving together, both of them chasing their end.

One of Zachary's hands drift towards Whizzer's cock, stroking him roughly. Whizzer comes with Zachary's name on his lips and a head full of white noise. He feels the man above him fucking him through it, until he reaches his end as well.

They lie there, gasping for air, until Zachary pulls out and rolls to the side. They're quiet for a while, both trying to get their breath back and enjoying their post-orgasm haze.

Zachary turns towards him, eyes glazed over. "That was amazing," he whispered. Whizzer smiled and nodded his agreement.

They lay there for a few moments more, before Zachary reaches for the abandoned blankets and settles them over both of them. He nuzzles closer, and Whizzer allows himself to melt into the embrace. He slowly falls asleep, Zachary's arms protective around him.

\-----

Whizzer jolts awake, heart racing as he frantically takes in his surroundings. Did he really fall asleep, snuggled up to the man next to him? What the hell had he been thinking?

He stumbles to his feet, careful not to wake the man still asleep in the bed. Zachary, his mind provides.

Whizzer struggles to find his clothes in the dark, but eventually manages it, tugging them on as quickly as he can. The clock in the corner reads it's 4am. He tiptoes to the door, but pauses at the last second, looking back at the sleeping figure.

Zachary's going to disappointed when he wakes up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, but that's not Whizzer's problem. Still, he hopes he isn't too hurt. He was a great fuck, but Whizzer doesn't _do_ post-coital cuddling. That's what married couples do.

He winces as his mind pictures Marvin and his wife embracing, probably after gentle, obligatory birthday sex. Whatever. If Marvin's spending his night in someone else's bed, it's only fair Whizzer did the same.

He looks around for his jacket. " _Shit_ ," he curses as he realises he left it at the bar. Weren't his keys in there? He digs his hands into his pockets, almost crying with relief when he feels them pressing into his thigh.

He steps toward the door quietly, ready to leave, when something catches his eye. There, on the kitchen counter on the left of the door, is a sizeable stack of ten dollar bills.

He doesn't even hesitate.

He pockets the money and pulls open the door, closing it as quietly as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Marvin will reappear next chapter (for better or for worse)


	5. Making movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays to those who celebrate :)

Whizzer wakes in his own bed, pleasantly aching. His thighs are a little sore, but he is refreshed in a way that only good sex can cause. He feels pretty good, until he remembers everything he'd managed to forget during the night before.

Marvin will probably be at his door in a couple of hours, a day at most, acting as if nothing happened. Annoying, but not entirely unwelcome. They're going to have to sort this argument out at some point, and Whizzer feels that point may have to be today.

The old clock next to his bed says it's just after ten. He gets up to make breakfast, then remembers the state of his fridge. He sits down again, resigning himself to staring up at the skylight.

It's about an hour before the sharp, insistent knocking starts. Whizzer drags himself to the door, already aware of who is waiting outside.

He opens the door. Marvin looks agitated, shifting around nervously and picking at the edge of his jacket. "Hey," he looks up, smiling weakly.

Whizzer stares coldly at him, stepping away from the door. Marvin enters the apartment, unusually cautious. "Listen, there's-" He stops suddenly.

Whizzer turns around, curious about what cut him off. He freezes when he sees Marvin's eyes settled on his neck. He hadn't thought to check in the mirror, but judging by Marvin's expression, it's probably a mess of hickeys and bitemarks.

He waits for the shouting to start, for Marvin to storm out of the apartment, but he's greeted with only silence. Marvin looks away.

“We need to talk about my wi- _Trina_. We need to talk about Trina, okay?" Whizzer nods dumbly, joining Marvin when he sits down on the couch. His mind races in confusion.

Why hadn't Marvin mentioned the marks? He'd obviously seen them - in fact, he was still glancing at them when he thought Whizzer wasn't looking. So why wasn't he commenting? His head is beginning to ache. None of it makes sense; the Marvin he knows is insanely jealous, not to mention volatile.

But now he's staring softly at Whizzer, calm and doe-eyed. And it's not so much Marvin's expression that's making Whizzer uncomfortable; it's the excited, hopeful buzzing in his chest because of the look.

He pushes it away, telling himself halfheartedly that he's giving Marvin an advantage, even if he wants to deny it.

It's ten in the morning and Marvin looks so sweet on him that he wants to ignore their petty power struggles. He knows they'll reappear soon, of course.

Still, it seems foolish to be thinking of how his words will be twisted during their next argument, when they could be talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. He'll regret this later, when he's so angry at Marvin he wants to cry and punch a hole in the wall, and burn Marvin's life to the ground.

But he forgets, at least for now, just like he has so many times before. Marvin is scared and in pain, so he puts his own aside. It's repetitive to the point of boredom.

Marvin is still staring at him quietly.

Whizzer lays a cautious hand on his shoulder to prompt him. Marvin takes a deep breath. "I think she might know." he blurts out. His words are so hurried that it takes Whizzer a moment to understand what he's saying.

"You mean, about me?" he asks, curious and a little worried. He shouldn't be, given he considers telling her himself on the regular. But the pained look on Marvin's face makes his heart jump in his chest, and suddenly he wants to bury their secret as deep as possible.

“Yeah." Marvin offers no further explanation, just watches Whizzer calmly.

"Okay," Whizzer says slowly. "So why do you think that?"

Marvin shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. It's just a feeling; sometimes I'll see her looking at me in this devastated way, but when I ask her she'll say it's nothing."

"Well, that could just be a coincidence. The sad looks might have nothing to do with this." Whizzer explains. "I mean, no offense, but you're not exactly the easiest person to live with. She's probably just upset about you not washing the dishes or something."

Marvin smiles weakly at the joke. "I guess. But she just gives of this sense, y'know? Like she's looking into my head and seeing everything I've done with you."

"If she can see everything you've done with me, then she's probably a little traumatised from all the gay sex." Whizzer quips.

Marvin rolls his eyes, but his mouth curves up a little more (and this time it seems more genuine).

"I know this is a lot to throw at you. But I just felt I needed to ask what you thought. You've met her. Do you think she knows?" Marvin looks at him imploringly.

Whizzer searches his memories, remembers that ill-advised trip to Marvin's family house. The way his wife had looked at him and Marvin was undeniable. There's no way she doesn't have at least some idea.

"No." he lies. "I don't think she knows. I think you're just paranoid."

Marvin looks surprised. "Are you sure? But I thought- The stuff you said when you were there-"

"Look." Whizzer cuts him off. "I say a lot of shit, it doesn't mean it's all true."

"So you don't think my marriage is falling apart?" Marvin asks, unironically hopeful.

"Well, no." he relents, running a hand through his hair. "I think that much is true. But I don't think it's because she's realised you're a cheater."

"Hey, I'm not a _cheater_." Marvin says the word like it's something horribly distasteful.

"Yes you are, Marvin." Whizzer says without malice. Marvin opened his mouth to argue back, but Whizzer presses on. "You're married and sleeping with someone else on the side - me. You're a cheater."

Marvin closes his mouth. "Fine." he admits sulkily, readjusting his tie, but he isn't actually annoyed. Whizzer glances at the damn tie and shudders.

"What?" Marvin's voice is suddenly demanding. "Is the fact that I'm apparently a cheater off-putting to you? You're not exactly perfect either!"

Whizzer holds up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say I was. And I didn't say you were off-putting, either."

"Yeah, but you shivered and made a horrible expression, didn't you?" The sulky tone of voice is back.

Whizzer tuts, shuffling closer to Marvin on the couch. "That wasn't a reaction to your infidelity, idiot. It was because of the godawful thing wrapped around your neck."

"Wha- It's just a tie, why are you suddenly being an asshole?" Marvin grumbles, touching his tie self-consciously.

Whizzer chuckles and undoes the knot, tossing the tie away without thought. Marvin sighs at his catty actions, but smiles when Whizzer laughs.

“Alright, fine. I'll forget that comment, for now.” Marvin tells him, hand resting on the back of Whizzer’s neck. They both know he’s not just talking about the comment or the tie, but forgiveness is still forgiveness, even for just a little while.

They kiss and laugh and the clock chimes eleven.

\-----

Marvin lets out a deep groan, burrowing into the duvet. "I'm hungry..." he mumbles, tossing and turning in frustration. His stomach grumbles.

Whizzer takes one look at him and rolls over. Marvin continues to fidget, his flailing arm narrowly missing Whizzer's head. "I want to eat..." He pauses and edges his way into Whizzer's side, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Whizzer..." he whines in  his ear.

"Go and get some food then." Whizzer tells him.

Marvin nuzzles his hair and murmurs, "i don't wanna get up."

Whizzer sighs annoyed, "Then starve. I don't care. Just let me sleep."

Marvin huffs and tightens his arms around Whizzer's torso. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not." Whizzer protests indignantly.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm n— Shut up." Whizzer says, shrugging Marvin off him. "If you want something to eat, you have to make it yourself. I'm not your housewife."

It's the kind of comment that usually would've started an argument, but Marvin just ruffles his hair with a huff of affectionate exasperation. "Fine." he turn over and swings his legs to the ground.

He walks over to the fridge and Whizzer rolls back over, head buried in the pillow. If Marvin would just be a little quieter he'd be able to drift off…

"What the hell?" Marvin does sound genuinely shocked, but the bed is so very comfortable and Whizzer can't be asked to get up.

"What is it?" he calls blearily. It’s probably something stupid, like Marvin hitting his arm on the couch.

"There's nothing in here, Whizzer. Literally, it's empty. And..." Some doors slam. "There's nothing in the cupboards either. What the fuck, Whizzer, are you living like this?" Whizzer lifts his head from the pillow.

He stares silently as Marvin looks back at him disbelievingly. "I was going to go shopping today." Whizzer offers weakly, sitting up. He doesn't know what else to say - he figured Marvin wouldn't ask about his living situation unless he brought it up first. That's the way it usually was.

"Were you?" Marvin demands, Whizzer nodding halfheartedly. "If you were, then with what money?" Whizzer doesn't know what to say to that either. He looks down at his hands, twisted in his lap.

He needs Marvin to stop questioning him, to stop this line of conversation, and he only knows two ways to get him to do that. Either charm it out of his mind or hurt him badly enough he forgets; and Marvin's too worked up for the first option to work.

Whizzer takes a deep breath - it’s a shame they have to forfeit the mutual peace they were experiencing, and it hurts Whizzer like burning, but he tells himself it cannot be helped. He's going to regret doing this.

"Oh, _Marv_." He begins, voice dripping with condescending pity. He's about to continue, to let poisonous insults fill the air between them and destroy this fragile happiness they’ve built. But they don't come and Marvin shoots him a firm, irritated look.

"Don't try and change the subject. I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. Whizzer, why didn't you ask for help? From me, from anyone. Do you _like_ living like this?”

Whizzer ducks his head. “It's not that simple.” he whispers. “If I ask you about that stuff, you never actually do anything to help. You only look disappointed in me.”

“What? No, I don't.” Marvin crosses the room to stand in front of Whizzer, who’s still sitting in the centre of the bed, wrapped in bedsheets. “Whizzer, why would I be _disappointed_?”

“How would I know? I don't control the way you act!” Whizzer retorts, pulling the sheets tighter around him.

“Whizzer…” Marvin sighs and reaches out to brush Whizzer’s cheek. He shrugs off the bizarrely gentle gesture. Marvin begins to pace. “Right. You must have some spare change lying around somewhere. Here-"

He reaches for something on the bedside table and holds it up to inspect it. It's a stack of money.

Whizzer's body reacts before his mind does, which is to say he's out of bed and snatching the money out of Marvin's grasp before his brain processes exactly what the stack of bills is, and how dirty they look in Marvin's hand. He should be thinking a million different things right now - mostly how to find a clever excuse - but right now the entirety of his brain is dedicated to getting the money away from Marvin. And a small part of his mind that's considering why the money was exactly where it was.

Marvin’s hand recoiled immediately, staring at Whizzer in surprised silence. He cautiously reaches forwards but Whizzer draws the bills closer to his chest. “Don’t!” he barks, unexpectedly authoritative. He doesn’t mean to be like this, but the thought of that money - that he _stole_ , he reminds himself - in Marvin’s hands is too much.

“For god’s sake, Whizzer, why do you have to be so fucking difficult all the time?” Marvin huffs, staring down at the money clasped in his hands. “Why haven’t you bought any food if you’ve built up this much cash?” He waits expectantly. “Well?”

Whizzer’s brain kicks into overdrive. He can’t say it’s not built up over time, because then Marvin will ask why he was paid so much in one go, and more importantly, how he earned it.

He stays silent. Marvin throws his hands in the air, exasperation and annoyance clear in his gesture. “Whatever. Do what you want. It’s your decision to harm yourself, not mine.”

Whizzer starts. “Harm myself? What do you think this is, some kind of crazy diet? What the fuck?”

“Well, I don’t see you offering any other explanation! What am I supposed to think?” Marvin snaps.

And what is Whizzer supposed to say to that?

Marvin’s face softens when he sees the lost look in his eyes. He takes Whizzer’s spare hand gently, eyes imploring. “If there’s something going on,” he begins, carefully avoiding eye contact, thumb rubbing circles in Whizzer’s palm. “Something that you think could potentially harm you, then I nee- I would like to know. Okay?”

He brings Whizzer’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles with such out-of-place reverence that Whizzer laughs out loud. Marvin jerks back, hurt, but Whizzer can’t stop. It’s just so bizarre; this entire, fucked up situation leading to Marvin treating him like the sweet, chaste princess in some fairy tale.

He doesn’t stop laughing even when Marvin shakes him, yells in his face, wrenches the money from his grip and puts it on the bedside table.

He doesn’t stop when Marvin gathers his clothes, pulls them on in haste, shoves Whizzer’s own clothes into his chest and asks him to get dressed.

He doesn’t stop when Marvin berates him, eyes getting more and more irritated, and he doesn’t stop when Marvin storms out of the apartment or slams the door.

He collapses onto the bed, still gigging. It’s then that he catches his breath and the choking convulsions end. He sits for a second, a million different thoughts running through his mind.

He should follow Marvin, he knows, but he won’t. He wraps the covers around him again and rolls over in bed. So much for working it out.

He’ll call Marvin later. But he can feel darkness creeping into the corners of his vision and he closes his eyes. Sleep comes quickly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, a thousand hits! And yeah, I know it's not that much in grand scheme of things, but it means THE WORLD to me!
> 
> And thank you to all those who left comments and kudos, this chapter would've taken a lot longer if it weren't for you (thanks for the motivation haha)


	6. Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the wonderful readers and commenters ;) ily

When Whizzer hears another knock at the door, he swears he's hallucinating.

The insistent noise continues, and only gets louder.

He pulls himself out from under the sheets, irritated. He doesn't manage to stand up on the first attempt and he's left sitting on the bed, world spinning in a crazy helter-skelter around him. His second attempt proves successful and he pads towards the door.

The floor is cold against his bare feet, and in a passing moment he wishes he owned more rugs. He's about to open the door when he realises he's still not properly dressed.

Quickly, he ducks to grab a shirt and pull on some trousers. His appearance may usually be his top priority, but it doesn't seem to matter right now. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing the messy strands down.

Whizzer opens the door and promptly shuts it again. He slowly processes what he saw on the other side. Seeing Marin is shock enough, but the fifteen shopping bags he's carrying are the icing on top of the insane cake.

He glances at the clock. It's not even been an hour. Why is Marvin outside his apartment again?

He tries to say something, but no words come out.

"Y'know we really have to stop doing this." Marvin calls through the door good-naturedly. "It seems like every time I'm here you slam the door in my face."

"Keep your voice down, I have neighbours." Whizzer hisses, his voice returning to him. "Is this your idea of a joke? What are you doing?"

"You'll know if you let me in." Marvin replies easily, lowering his volume. He sounds far too optimistic, and Whizzer wants to slam his head into the door.

"I don't understand what you have to gain from this. Why are you here? And why are you so fucking happy?"

"Not everything I do is to _gain_ something." Marvin says, and all previous cheerfulness gone from his voice. He sounds - Whizzer hesitates to call it sad, but tired definitely. "I'll leave if you want me to. But I need to drop all this stuff off first, and if I leave it outside it'll be stolen before I've left the building."

Curiosity gets the better of Whizzer and he opens the door again. He knows it's impossible, but it seems that the number of plastic bags Marvin was carrying has increased.

"Thanks." Marvin begins lugging the bags into the apartment, but is stopped by Whizzer's hand against his chest.

"Explain." he says curtly. Marvin catches his eye and he turns them to stare meaningfully down at the bags. He has a million questions that he doesn’t know how to voice. Marvin nods dutifully. "I will. Just let me put these down somewhere." Whizzer doesn't move his hand.

Marvin's shoulders hunch as he readjusts his hold on the bags, aware that Whizzer isn't going to allow him even this. "Okay. I shouldn't have teased you just now."

Whizzer purses his lips. "Right. And?" He gestures vaguely to the shopping bags. Marvin smiles at him, and it's not teasing or dirty or patronising, as his smiles so often are. It's like the sun's come out and Whizzer just wants to kick him out of the apartment again.

He's incredibly confused and feels that confusion could spiral into anger any second, but it's becoming increasingly, blatantly obvious that the shopping is for _him_.

"I have plenty of money. You know this." Marvin says, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to balance out the weight.

"Yeah, but why spend it on this? On me?" The question is out before Whizzer can stop it, open and vulnerable in the air between them, but he can't help it. Marvin’s wealth, no matter how big or small, doesn't explain why he’d...

Marvin looks sad for a second, but then he's speaking, tone firm and even. "You need some things. I have the means to get these things, with no effort. It's simple enough."

Whizzer blinks, unsure of how to argue with that. Marvin shifts his feet again, and Whizzer steps aside to let him pass.

Marvin dumps the bags on the kitchen counter with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “You want to make something? Are you hungry?” he asks, reaching into the bags.

Whizzer watches as he takes out eggs and bread and milk and cereal and fruit and vegetables - the list goes on. Whizzer is left staring at the heaps of food sitting on his kitchen counter with detachment, as if they aren't real.

Marvin furrowed his eyebrows at Whizzer’s silence and vacant stare. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Whizzer murmurs absently.

“You don't look-” Marvin begins, but cuts himself off. He takes a calming breath and tries his earlier question again. “What would you like to eat?”

“I don't want anything to eat.” Whizzer flops down onto the couch. “I just need a moment.” He rubs his temples, hoping that it will explain how he get into this situation.

“Okay…” Marvin pulls a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs out of the pile of food. Whizzer offers no reply, so he continues talking, his voice filling the silence around them. “How about Marvin’s famous egg on toast? It's not much, true, but I don't know how to make that much, given Trina usually-” Whizzer hears a sharp intake of breath from across the room as Marvin realises his mistake. He gets to his feet.

It only takes a second to cross the room and then he's cupping Marvin’s face and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

Marvin splutters when Whizzer lets go off his face, but Whizzer hushes him, determined to put his newfound revelation into words. “Listen. I'm not going to pretend to understand everything you do. Or even half the things you do.” Marvin smiles. “Because you're confusing as hell, and change your mind like the damn weather. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try and understand. Even when you're being a prick.”

Marvin grins. He's giving Whizzer that soft look again.

“And you have to do the same for me.” Whizzer adds, watching Marvin closely. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Marvin says, nodding immediately.

“Good.” Whizzer steps away briskly, going to sit back on the couch.

He watches as Marvin smiles in a fond kind of way, and turns back to the kitchen counter.

“Do you need any help?” Whizzer asks, watching Marvin search around for something in his cupboards.

“Dear God, no. I'm not subjecting myself to your awful cooking today.” Marvin chuckles. Whizzer knows he should be offended, but he doesn't really care. Marvin's right, anyway.

“Okay, suit yourself.” he says loftily, going back to observing Marvin in silence.

It takes a few more minutes of fruitless searching for Marvin to think of taking Whizzer up on his offer of help.

“Where do you keep your bowls? I can't find them anywhere,” he states, frustration seeping into his words.

Whizzer raises an eyebrow. “I thought you didn't want my help,” he says flippantly, laughing when Marvin groans.

“Just- Where are they?”

Whizzer gets up off the couch and turns to one of the various piles of clothing. He kneels down, digging through it for a moment. He pushes it out of the way and grabs at something behind it, before he stands, triumphantly waving a plastic cooking bowl in his hand.

“Here you are!” He sets it down in front of Marvin proudly.

“Whizzer. Gross.” Marvin wrinkles his nose, looking from the bowl to Whizzer to the clothing now strewn around the couch. “How long has it been since you washed that stuff?”

“Not that long.” Whizzer defends, avoiding looking at the mess. “It's fine.”

Marvin picks up the bowl with a grimace. “Y’know, you should consider selling some of this stuff. Or giving it away, I guess.”

Whizzer shrugs. “Never considered it. Besides, I don't think it'd go for much.”

“You won't know if you don't try, though.” Marvin tells him, fishing an egg out of the carton and cracking it into the plastic bowl.

“Alright, I'll consider it,” Whizzer says, propping his elbows up on the counter and watching Marvin crack another egg, before closing the carton. “Never really thought of you as the charity type.”

“Well, I said you could sell it _or_ you could give it away. You don't have to give it to charity.” Marvin pushes the carton to the side. “But it would be nice if you did. You could help someone poor, or starving.”

“Surely then I should just try and help myself?” Whizzer quips, poking the plastic bowl. Marvin gives him a hard look. “What? I was joking, calm down.”

“I'm serious, Whizzer. It's a great thing to help those less fortunate than you.” Marvin says calmly.

“Fine, I said I'd consider it.” Whizzer replies, staring down at his hands. Something at the back of his mind tugs at him, but he can't quite place a finger on it. Something about Marvin's approach seemed off.

Marvin glances around the counter. “You don't own a whisk, do you?” he accuses, checking the kitchen surfaces.

“Maybe.” Whizzer admits, distracted from his previous train of thought. “But I don't think I really need one - what problems can a whisk solve? When am I going to need one?”

“Right now. You need a whisk right now.” Marvin points out. “They're not going to taste as good if I don't use a whisk.”

“I think I’ll live.” Whizzer reaches into the drawer next to him and pulls out a fork, tossing it to Marvin. “Here, use this.”

Marvin heaves a long-suffering sigh, and starts beating the eggs with the fork.

Whizzer rolls his eyes when Marvin pointedly sighs again. “Get over it. I'm sure they'll still taste good.”

He fights not to think about how affectionate the words sound in his mouth, and how Marvin grinning in response sends a warm rush through him. It's all his imagination anyway.

He gets up and wanders around his apartment, kicking the clothing back into its pile. Marvin begins to hum, the melody carrying across the room. It's nice. The whole thing is nice.

Whizzer catches himself smiling in the mirror and tries to wipe it away. He looks sweet and gentle and the smile is so delicate it's better to frown. The front of his shirt slips down, and he winces as it exposes the outline of a bitemark on his collarbone. He'd almost forgotten about the events of last night.

The reminder is as unwelcome as it is inconvenient. But at least it helps Whizzer to remember that no matter how cute and domestic they act, it can't be real. Less than twelve hours ago, Whizzer had been pinned to someone else’s bed, and Marvin probably spent last night struggling to get it up for his wife. They weren't in a relationship, or boyfriends, or anything of the sort. That, Whizzer needed to remember. It was _good_ that he had remembered. 

He hears Marvin calling for him again from the kitchen. He pulls his shirt closer around his throat and turns around. He just needs to make sure he remembers, that's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh okay, about the cooking thing: so my theory is that in pre-canon, whilst their relationship was still fifty shades of unhealthy, Marvin didn't rely so heavily on Whizzer for things like cooking and cleaning or traditionally feminine things because he still had Trina to handle all of that.
> 
> However, during March of the Falsettos, he begins to project these heteronormative roles onto his relationship with Whizzer and tries to mould him into Trina's place, as a way of coping with his divorce and convincing himself that it was "worth it", because if Whizzer can be everything Trina was then he's not losing anything by splitting up with her.
> 
> Anyway, that's why he's chill about Whizzer not being the one doing the cooking. ALSO, the reason their relationship isn't as sexually charged in this as it is in March of the Falsettos because Marvin is still with his wife - this puts a lot of pressure on his relationship with Whizzer, and this makes it difficult to rationalise sex - especially when they're going through a rough patch, which is almost always. And yes, I know, in In Trousers, their relationship is portrayed as incredibly sexual (and almost nothing else - Whizzer Going Down and all that), but my idea is that's how Whizzer's shown because when that scene took place Marv was still in the early stages of figuring out his sexuality, so Whizzer IS just a sex object to experiment with to him, at first (although it does kind of continue).  
> K that's all! (sorry if that was boring haha)


End file.
